by Greg James
Murph had already seen his opportunity. He was lunging for the edge of the balcony as fast as he could, only dimly aware of a click as the attack drones readied their machine guns to fire on his friends.
As the sun sent a few last red beams through the low cloud, Kid Normal leaped out into the sunset. He caught the remote control in midair, pressed the yellow but ton, and just had time to gasp, “Drones disengage!” before he plummeted toward the concrete far below.
25
The Heroes’ Vow
“That,” said the tall, thin woman sit ting in Mr. Souperman’s office, “is one of the single bravest things I have ever seen.”
She clicked a remote control, and on a large screen on the wall a video feed from the attack drone’s onboard camera froze at the very moment Murph was about to plummet toward the ground. His face was set, his teeth gritted with total determination to save his friends.
“Brave?” grunted Mr. Flash, now free of his mind-control helmet and feeling much better after spending a few hours unconscious. “Stupid, more like it. This is what happens when civilians get involved. Never ends well.”
“I wonder what was going through his head,” murmured Mr. Souperman.
Nobody spoke for a moment.
The tall, thin woman broke the silence. “Well,” she said, “why don’t we ask him?”
What had been going through Murph’s head was more like a noise than any particular words, and it’s very difficult to write down. But it kind of sounds like the roar of a bear in slow motion and it is, as the tall lady had correctly identified, the sound of bravery. You might think something very noble goes through your mind as you do an extremely fearless thing, but actually it’s a noise more like Bwooooooaaaaa
aaaaaarrrrrrrrrgggggggghhh
hhhhhhhh.
Told you it was hard to write down.
Anyway—that was what was roaring through Kid Normal’s head as he threw himself from Nektar’s balcony and learned, just for a split second, what it felt like to fly. Then he learned what it’s like to fall rapidly toward the ground, which is a much less fun lesson. One that would have ended with a splatting sound approximately seven seconds later if Murph hadn’t had a good friend standing by.
As soon as she had heard Murph gasp, “Drones disengage,” Mary had started sprinting toward him. She too had dived into nothingness with that slowed-down bear noise roaring in her own head as she tilted her body like a skydiver, desperately chasing the plunging figure.
She hadn’t stopped to think, “I don’t have my umbrella.” She hadn’t even remembered Mr. Flash’s scornful words about her Cape. She just knew that she had to save her best friend.
Inches from the ground, Mary managed to grab one of Murph’s frantically windmilling hands and suddenly, miraculously, without even thinking about her umbrella, the friends swooped back into the air.
They had been so close to disaster that one of Murph’s sneakers actually brushed the concrete as she hoisted him upward, away from a messy end.
When they’d bobbed back up above the balcony, they’d found their three friends watching openmouthed, little Hilda actually hopping up and down with excitement and fright.
“What about the umbrella, then?” gasped Murph as they landed neatly back on top of the tower.
“Looks like I didn’t need it after all,” said Mary shakily. “Maybe it just helps to be holding onto something that makes me happy.” She looked down at her hand, which was still gripping tightly to Murph’s.
Murph immediately exhibited the biggest blush ever recorded, one of those ones that makes you feel like your ears are actually on fire.
To cover his confusion, he looked down over the edge of the balcony, and it was only then that he realized what he’d seen on the ground below them. Or rather—what he hadn’t seen. He hadn’t seen the squished remains of a man-wasp creature. What had happened to Nektar? As he surveyed the scene down there, his confusion grew.
Several plain black vans had drawn up in the front courtyard of Ribbon Robotics, and a selection of rather tough-looking men and women in black combat gear were moving around purposefully. Murph made out a flash of yellow in the back of one of the vehicles before someone in black slammed the doors shut and banged sharply on the side.
The engine roared as the van sped away through the gates, passing the smashed remains of the Ribbon Robotics trucks they had hidden behind during their battle with Corned Beef Boy. The trucks had been neatly moved to one side, but Murph couldn’t for the life of him think how.
“Who on earth are these guys?” he wondered out loud.
“Most of you folks just call us the Cleaners,” said a deep voice behind him. Murph turned to see a huge man in black army fatigues and a chunky and almost certainly bulletproof vest. He had short, clipped hair and a face that looked like it wouldn’t smile if you tickled it for seven entire years. He was turning over one of the deactivated attack drones with a large, scuffed black boot.
“Cleaners?” said Billy, who was staring at him with his mouth open.
“Cleaners,” confirmed the man without looking at him, “because we clean up the mess you lot leave behind. Sort out the likes of them.” He pointed to the road beyond the gates, where a TV news van was pulling up beside several police cars that were blocking off the road. “You’ll be amazed how easy they can be to fool,” the serious man went on, examining the huge drone curiously. “Gas explosion, we usually tell ’em for this kind of thing. Anyway—time to make yourselves scarce. We’ll get you home.”
That reminded Murph. “Oh yeah, my home. It kind of got destroyed.”
“There’s been a team there for the last hour,” the man told him. “We’ve got your mom and brother safe. We cooked up a story for them as well.”
“What did you tell them?” Murph wanted to know.
“Gas explosion,” said the man, without cracking a smile. “Right, come on downstairs with me. I’ll let CAMU take you from here,” he added, pointing to the police cars.
“CAMU?” said Murph. He’d heard Deborah Lamington use that word when she was talking to the police that night she’d floored a mugger with a trash-can lid. It seemed like years ago.
“Capability Awareness and Management Unit,” the man explained. “They’re the part of the police that keeps an eye out for this kind of threat and passes the information on to the Heroes’ Alliance. They let this wasp guy slip through the net, though. Lucky you were quick on your feet.”
Murph felt his head swelling with pride. “Um, thanks.” His battle-addled brain slowly clanked into life. “So, wait—the Alliance helps out by providing Heroes when they’re needed, and you’re here to keep anyone from finding out about it all?”
“We’re here to clear up if something goes wrong,” the huge man corrected him. “You’re not really supposed to leave destroyed factories and trashed houses behind you. It makes us rather unhappy.”
“Well, thanks for stepping in,” said Murph awkwardly. “See you around, I guess.”
The man regarded him coolly with his steely-gray eyes. “I very much hope not, Mr. Cooper.”
And so Murph had been driven to a hotel by someone who looked very much like an ordinary pol ice officer, although he now knew she was a member of the Capability Awareness and Management Unit. When Murph arrived, he had listened to his mom explain tearfully that there had been a gas explosion at their house.
I know a lot of secrets all of a sudden, thought Kid Normal to himself, tucked up under tight sheets in an unfamiliar bed.
And when he left for school the following day, with his mom reassuring him that the insurance company had promised to sort everything out, he realized he finally understood what part of the Heroes’ Vow meant—the part that talked about secrets. Because he and his friends had just rescued their entire school—and yet there was nobody they could tell.
The rest of The School had similar secrets to deal with. They’d been rounded up at Ribbon Robotics by the mysterious people known as
Cleaners and checked over by a very efficient team of doctors. Arriving back at school in blacked-out vans, they’d discovered that the parents who’d arrived to collect them had been told there was a dangerous gas leak and the street had been cordoned off. The hidden machinery of the Capable world had swung into action with breath-taking efficiency. The whole attack, the kidnapping, the battle . . . it was all being expertly covered up.
The students who’d been mind-controlled were unable to remember anything about the experience when they regained consciousness. The others were warned by the Cleaners, as they sent them on their way, that the entire incident was now classified. Even their parents weren’t to be told.
Back in Mr. Souperman’s office, the tall, thin lady turned away from the frozen image of Murph leaping into space.
“Saving without glory. Fighting without fear,” she said to Mr. Souperman. “They seem to be likely candidates.”
Mr. Flash had just been taking a sip of tea and spluttered so hard at this that it came fountaining out of his nose and soaked his mustache. “You’re not thinking of taking that bunch of chancers on for the Alliance?” he finally managed to say. “YOU’RE OFF YOUR ROCKER!”
“I am the head of the Heroes’ Alliance,” said the woman calmly, taking a delicate sip of her own tea and getting it nowhere near her nostrils, “and I beg to differ.”
“But one of them hasn’t even got a Capability!” thundered Mr. Flash. “YOU CAN’T BE A SUPERHERO WITHOUT SUPER-POWERS.”
“Actually, I think young Mr. Cooper has just proved that you can,” said a voice from the doorway.
They all spun around to see Flora appear, looking a bit battered but very much alive. Carl was in the hallway behind her, beating dust out of his pants with a rolled-up newspaper.
Flora walked calmly into the room and sat down. “Sorry for the delay. Crashed jet cars are a real pain to cover up. It’s taken us all night to get back here. I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” she added, turning to the tall, thin lady.
“I’m Flint—Miss Flint, chief officer of the Heroes’ Alliance,” she said, extending a hand.
“Blue Phantom,” replied Flora, taking the hand and shaking it enthusiastically, “founding member of the Heroes’ Alliance. Pleased to meet you.”
Miss Fl int seemed lost for words at suddenly being confronted with someone who she thought was probably fictional and definitely no longer alive. But she soon composed herself.
“We were just discussing their performance at the factory,” she told Flora, pointing to the screen. “I under stand it was you and your husband who flew them there.”
Flora was silent for a moment, sitting down slowly at the table with her head bowed. Then, suddenly, a single tear fell onto the polished wood. “We did fly them there, yes. We were on our way to mount a rescue, and I thought they’d be safer if I brought them along,” she said in a choked voice. “But I let them down. I left them unprotected. I swore I’d never, ever let that happen again.”
Carl, who’d walked up behind her, gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. “We came under attack, love. That wasp had more firepower than we thought. It wasn’t your fault.”
This all seemed to help Miss Flint make up her mind. “So, they were left alone at the start of a mission and still managed to fight their way through. What did you say this team call themselves, Geoffrey?” she asked, turning to Mr. Souperman.
“The, ah, Super Zeroes,” he replied. “I think it started as a bit of a joke among the other children. But they seemed to, you know . . .”
“Turn their weakness into a strength?” Miss Flint finished for him, nodding approvingly. “I’m impressed. Yes, I think we can expect great things from the Super Zeroes.”
Later that day, the whole school assembled in the auditorium. All except for Mr. Drench, who hadn’t been seen since the battle at Ribbon Robotics. But the rest of the kids and staff had all filed in, intrigued by a message from Mr. Souperman telling them that a rare event was about to take place.
They gathered in the auditorium, still chattering excitedly about the events of the previous day.
Once The School was assembled, the head got to his feet.
For a former Hero, he could get surprisingly tongue-tied speaking in front of large crowds, and he even managed to screw up his rather simple opening line. “Please be sitted,” he told the room, before correcting himself but getting it wrong again: “Please be sat.”
He coughed to cover his embarrassment, but the scraping of more than a hundred people sitting down on their seats gave him time to collect himself.
“We are in the presence of a very special guest today,” he told The School. “Please welcome the head of the Heroes’ Alliance.”
There was a gasp as Miss Flint stepped forward, gesturing with her hands to keep everyone sitting down.
“Please don’t get up,” she told them. “And it’s nice to see you. I’d never had the pleasure of visiting until we welcomed two of you into the Alliance last year.” She nodded toward the back of the room, where Deborah and Dirk were sitting, looking rather downhearted that yesterday they had been the ones who’d needed rescuing.
“We don’t admit many people,” continued Miss Flint, “but I’m sure you will agree that the five who saved each and every one of you yesterday have proven themselves to be a very impressive team indeed. Would you join me up here, please?”
She beckoned to Murph, Mary, Nellie, Hilda, and Billy, who were seated in the front row. Looking rather shell-shocked, they shuffled up onto the stage, cheeks burning, and stood in an awkward line directly beneath the stone tablet with the Heroes’ Vow carved on it.
“When we admit you to our alliance, we ask you to choose a name that you will adopt while you are on operations,” Miss Flint said solemnly. “Name yourselves.”
She gestured to Mary, who stepped forward and cleared her throat.
“Mary Canary,” she said confidently. Someone tittered.
Hilda stepped forward.
“Equana,” she declared.
Next was Billy.
“Balloon Boy,” he said boldly.
Nellie was next, and her hair was covering her face as usual. But all at once she brushed it back and looked confidently at the packed room as she stated her chosen name:
“Rain Shadow.”
Murph was last. He planted his feet firmly at the edge of the stage as he told the whole assembled school his new name. The name that had started as an insult but that he had made his own.
“I am Kid Normal,” said Murph Cooper, “and together we are the Super Zeroes.”
Miss Flint nodded calmly. “Take your vow,” she instructed them. And together the Super Zeroes recited aloud the words carved into the stone:
I promise to save without glory,
To help without thanks,
And to fight without fear.
I promise to keep our secrets,
Uphold our vow,
And learn what it means
To be a true Hero.
Miss Flint began to applaud and the rescued students and teachers followed suit, gradually rising to their feet as the Super Zeroes were led by the head of the Heroes’ Alliance down from the stage and out through the central aisle.
Miss Flint turned to them as the doors to the auditorium swung closed behind them all. “Well, you’re on the side of the angels now, Mr. Cooper,” she told Murph. “Here’s your halo.”
She handed him a slim phone handset, the same one that he’d seen Cowgirl use. The screen was blank except for the words HALO UNIT OPERATIONAL in small letters along the bottom. “This is the Heroes’ Alliance Locator Unit. It’s how you communicate with us,” she told them, “but that’s all you need to know for now. Keep it safe.”
“How do I, you know, call you?” Murph asked Miss Flint in an undertone.
“You don’t, Kid Normal,” she replied. “We call you.” And she turned on her heel and marched away.
26
The Ne
w House
All five of them danced out of school, chatting excitedly about what had just happened. They were actual superheroes! In fact, that’s all they kept saying.
“We’re actual superheroes!” whooped Billy.
“I know! We’re actual superheroes!” replied Hilda.
“We. Are. ACTUALLY actual superheroes,” confirmed Nellie.
But Murph wasn’t being quite so vocal, because he’d spotted his mom waiting in her car outside the gates, and the realization that he was about to move once again came crashing into his brain. He had that sinking feeling you get when your parents come to pick you up from a party. You realize that the fun is over. He’d just pulled off the unimaginable, and how typical, he thought, that despite all he’d gone through, he’d have to start over again. In another new school that absolutely, one hundred percent, no question, would be nowhere near as amazing as this one. Why had he even taken the Heroes’ Vow? He would never be able to live up to those words away from his friends.
Gloomily, he handed the HALO unit to Mary, mumbling, “You’d better look after this. Mom never wanted me to have a phone anyway.” And he slouched across the road and slumped into the car, banging the door shut wearily.
Murph’s mom had a few different faces that she used when picking him up from school, and he was an expert in them all. There was the “I’ve had a terrible day but I’m putting a brave face on it” face, the “let’s go for pizza” face, the “tidy your room” face, and, worst of all, the “I’m not angry; I’m disappointed” face.
But today she was sporting an expression he hadn’t seen before. It looked like she was practicing a new face—which you might call the “struggling to hold in a massive burp, but a good burp, a burp of excitement, not the burp you get after the aforementioned pizza” face.
As they drove, Murph was wondering why he wasn’t being quizzed on the events of the last twenty-four hours. Why wasn’t his mom saying anything? When he got into the car all she’d said was, “Ready?” and pulled away. When he started to ask about the house, all she did was hold up a finger for silence, still wearing her enigmatic burp face. Where were they going? They weren’t heading the right way for the hotel.